Collywobbles
by downtonabigail
Summary: When fourteen year old Mary commences her "monthlies", she is too embarrassed to tell Cora. Edith, however, finds out and is jealous that she has not yet had the honor - and little Sybil, not understanding the concept, fears that her eldest sister is ill. Cora soon figures out what's happened, however, and finds a way to explain the facts-of-life to her girls - while trying to keep
1. Chapter 1

For the third morning in a row, Mary woke feeling dreadful. She had just turned fourteen and it seemed as though with a new year came many new things about her body that she couldn't quite grasp. Her dresses felt awkward against her skin, she was often grouchy and then instantly laughing again. She found herself crying at the most absurd things and for nearly a week now she had experienced unrelenting stomach upset that didn't seem to be related to anything she'd eaten. This morning in particular she awoke feeling so poorly that she could hardly rouse herself from bed.

Across the room, at the vanity, thirteen year old Edith perched in front of the mirror, brushing her long, honey hued hair with Mary's favorite brush. Rising with a sudden, smoldering rage, Mary lept from the bedcovers and raced across the room, snatching the brush from her sister's hands.

"Edith, that's _mine._" she hissed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Mary, you weren't using it. You were asleep." she reached up and grasped for the brush, which Mary held up above her head just beyond Edith's reach.

"That's beside the point. You have to stop taking my things without asking permission. It's poor manners."

Edith sulked, "Yes, and I suppose racing across the room in your nightclothes to pull it from my hands like a ravenous animal is considered proper?"

Her cheeks pinking up, Mary turned from her sister and went back to her bed. Having risen so quickly, she now felt dizzy and a bit sick. Noticing that her sister appeared to be backing down from a row, Edith came toward her, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Mary, are you ill?" she said incredulously.

She swallowed, "I don't know. I haven't felt well for a few days."

"Do you want me to get Mama?" Edith asked. Though she and Mary fought like sisters do, she did care about her and certainly wouldn't wish her ill.

"No, I'm just going to have a bath, I think. Perhaps that will help." Somewhat distractedly, she handed the brush back to Edith -a peace offering of sorts- and headed for the bath. Edith heard the tap running, the large claw footed, porcelain tub filling up with water, and went back to brushing her tresses.

Having woken herself and padded down the hallway to her older sister's room from the nursery, ten year old Sybil hovered just outside the door. She was hoping that, unlike the past few mornings, today Mary might agree to play with her. It wasn't that Mary always turned her away, in fact, most days she at least begrudgingly accepted the role of Queen in Sybil's play stories. When she opened the door this morning, however, only Edith was sitting on the bed. Mary was nowhere to be seen, but she did hear water running.

"Where's Mary?" she said, walking over to Edith. Noticing that she had Mary's favorite silver brush, Sybil snickered. "Does Mary know you have her brush? She's going to bicker with you."

Edith looked at her smugly, "As a matter of fact, she lent it to me."

Sybil eyed her, "Where is she?"

Nodding toward the bathroom door, Edith rose and went back to the vanity, Sybil crossed to the bathroom door but before she could even reach for the doorknob, she heard a shrill screech from the other side of it.

"Mary?" Edith called, turning from the mirror. "Are you alright?"

Stepping out from behind the door, Mary, huddled in her nightclothes and pressing a towel to her chest, appeared pale and shaken.

"Edith, come quickly. Please." she said, her eyes wide. Not accustomed to seeing her sister plead for anything, and certainly not frightened, Edith set the brush down and went to her. The two girls disappeared behind the bathroom door and Sybil, feeling dejected, pressed her ear up against the wood.

"There's blood, Edith." she heard Mary said. "Look, it's all over my night gown."

Sybil inhaled sharply - Mary must be hurt! She felt her heart race and she lept up from the door, not wanting to hear anymore. She started to ran out of the room, but the glimmering silver brush caught her eye and, as an after thought, she grabbed it and raced out of the room and back to the nursery.

In the bath, Mary sat crumpled in a heap next to the now steaming tub and Edith paced the floor nervously. "Do you hurt?"

Mary nodded, "I feel dreadful." she looked up at her sister. Although Edith was younger, she wasn't by much, and both of them were old enough to know that this could only be one thing: Mary had begun her "monthlies."

"I thought girls didn't usually start until they were sixteen or seventeen." Edith said, "But of course you'd have to beat everyone."

"It's not like I can help it, Edith. And if this is truly it than I can only say that I wish it was not true, because I feel perfectly wretched."

Edith looked down at her damp and pale sister. She didn't look well at all. Even though she imagined it wasn't a pleasant experience, it was still a major event for a young girl to face. Mary was a woman, and Edith was immediately jealous. Even though she understood that since Mary was older she would almost certainly be the first girl to get her cycle, it still made her feel a bit left out.

"So, you should tell Mama. I'll fetch her." Edith said, turning toward the door. She felt Mary grasp her skirt, stopping her.

"No." she said, her voice curt. "I don't want to."

"Why ever not?" Edith said.

"I. . .I don't know, just not yet."

Edith wasn't certain but it almost appeared as though Mary was _embarrassed. _Feeling like her older sister's vulnerability could be used to her advantage, and well aware that now they were compatriots in keeping an enormous secret, she looked at her judiciously.

"Fine, then. I can keep a secret. For a price, of course."

Mary rolled her eyes. Always the opportunist, Edith.

"What do you want?" she said, pulling the towel tightly around her as she grimaced. She was now in enough pain that she wasn't interested in expending any mental energy to barter with Edith.

"Oh, don't worry Mary. I'll come up with something." With that, she gave a small smile and turned on her heels, heading back into the bedroom.

In the nursery, Sybil held her doll close to her and whimpered, overcome with sadness. Mary was not always nice to her but she was her sister and she loved her. She looked up to her. She was tall and beautiful and very smart. She had Papa's tough wit and Mama's delicate beauty. Unlike Edith, who could be wishy-washy, Mary always knew exactly what to do and she always had an answer for any of Sybil's inquiries. Now, she had some mysterious ailment and could even be _dying. _She looked down at the hairbrush, Mary's hairbrush, a memento of her darling sister. She traced the intricate design inscribed on the back of the brush and felt the cool silver against her fingertips. She cried quietly as she hid it beneath her pillow.

If Mary was going to die at least she'd have a token to remember her by.


	2. Chapter 2

"Robert, don't you think it's a little odd that none of the girls have rapped on our door yet this morning?" Cora said as O'Brien set her breakfast tray down before her in bed. From behind his newspaper, Robert thought a moment, then looked over at her.

"Come to think of it . . . it does seem awfully late in the morning for us to have not at least heard a peep from Sybil." The paper rustled as he lowered it, "O'Brien, would you mind fetching Nanny and seeing if the girls are ill?" he turned back to Cora, "Perhaps they've caught cold."

Cora stirred her tea, laughing "Oh, unlikely darling. We'd have seen them far earlier if they were ill."

There was a rap on the door and Cora smiled just as her lips brushed the side of her tea cup, "Their little ears must have been burning."

It wasn't the girls, though. It was Nanny.

"Pardon me, your Lordship." she nodded at Cora, "Your Ladyship. O'Brien stopped me in the hallway and told me you were concerned about the girls. Well, Lady Mary hasn't gotten out of bed, and I can't entice her even with breakfast. Lady Edith is awake and hasn't left Mary's side - I can't imagine what the two of them are up to but I'm certain whatever it is, it's no good."

Robert chuckled, "Yes, and Lady Sybil?"

Nanny sighed, "Poor thing, she must've had a nightmare. She's been crying all morn' but I haven't been able to soothe her. I asked if she'd like to see you, but she said no - she's at the foot of Lady Mary's bed and she won't budge."

Cora and Robert exchanged worried glances, "Thank you, Nanny." she glanced over at Robert, "I'm going to see what the matter is, don't disturb your breakfast, darling." With that, Cora threw back the covers and grabbed her dressing gown. Her hair unkempt still from sleep, Robert attempted to pause her,

"Darling, don't you want to ring for O'Brien first?"

"I hardly think the girls will mind if I look a bit ruffled. And if they're ill I don't want to keep away from them any longer."

Down the hall, Mary lay curled up tightly in her bed. She wasn't asleep, though her eyes were tightly closed and she swallowed hard, trying to quell the urge to moan. She knew she'd already frightened Sybil, and she didn't want to give Edith the satisfaction of knowing that she was feeling so miserable.

"I won't tell Mama that you got your monthlies if _you _promise not to tell her that I was the one that broke her hand mirror."

Mary winced, "_Fine,_ Edith, I just don't want you to tell her!"

"Alright." Edith said chirpily, "_Promise_."

Sybil, who was at the foot of bed, looked up over the sheets at Edith, "But I thought O'Brien broke the mirror, Mary?"

"Oh, _shut up Sybil!" _Mary whined, "If anyone asks you, it _was _O'Brien."

Sybil sniffled, "Oh, Mary, I don't think anyone will care, they'll be so worried about you!"

"Oh, stop it, Sybil." Edith snapped, "You have to keep quiet about this too!"

"But won't- won't-?"

"Girls?"

Edith and Sybil both turned to the door, where Cora had suddenly appeared. Edith rose quickly and grabbed Sybil, "Come on, Sybil, Nanny's probably wondering where we've run off to. . ."

She tried to slide past Cora, "Wait, Edith. What are you two doing in here?"

"Well, Mary's caught cold so she isn't joining us for lessons today. We- we just wanted to tell her to feel better!" Edith said, smiling brightly, "Do feel better, Mary!"

Sybil sniffled, sticking her thumb in her mouth. It had been many years since she had done so for comfort, and it immediately alarmed Cora.

"Sybil, take your thumb from your mouth at once!"

Sybil whimpered, "Oh, Mama, I'm sorry!" she cried, breaking away from Edith and running to bury her face in Cora's nightgown, "Please, can I stay with Mary? I don't want my lessons today, I want to stay here with her!"

Cora knelt down and took Sybil's face in her hands, wiping the tears from her face, "Oh, Sybil, Mary's just got a cold. She'll feel better tomorrow. Why don't you run along with Edith- you can go say good morning to your Papa before you return to the nursery, alright?"

Edith grabbed Sybil's arm and pulled her out of the room. A bit confused at their display, Cora made her way over to Mary's bed.

"Mary, darling, should I call for Dr. Clarkson?" she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing her hand on Mary's brow. "You don't feel feverish."

"Oh, no, Mama." Mary said, grimacing.

"Mary, are you sure? You look quite pale. Are you in pain?"

"No, no, I'm sure I'll be fine Mama. I would just like to go back to sleep for a while."

Cora studied her daughter for a moment - then, she knew. She knew that look well, and although she had been having _her _monthlies for many years now, she almost immediately could remember the first time she had woken with the pain, the fearful sight of blood in her sheets. She had noticed, too, that Mary seemed to have shot up several inches over the summer and some of her dresses seemed to hang oddly in ways that they hadn't before. She gazed down at her daughter now and felt so much empathy, but also a great sadness that her eldest was not a child any more.

"Mary, my darling. . .you don't have a cold, do you?"

Uncharacteristically vulnerable, Mary looked up at her mother and immediately began to tear up. She fought the urge to cry, feeling silly for doing so, but seeing her mother look so kindly at her, she couldn't help it. She just wanted to leap into her arms.

"Oh, mama, it's terrible. I feel dreadful. And there - there's blood, it's on my sheets, and I'm so shameful. I've ruined my night dress. I didn't mean to, I didn't know it was going to happen! I mean, I knew it was going to happen eventually but I didn't know today - otherwise I would have prepared, I promise you, I'm so sorry!"

Her tears flowed freely and she nestled close to Cora who couldn't help but laugh sympathetically.

"Oh, Mary, Mary, my dear girl, you don't need to be ashamed! We never know exactly when it will happen- there will be other times when it surprises you, I'm sorry to say. And you will feel a little dreadful, but eventually, you'll learn how to tolerate it. I'll have a hot water bottle brought up to you - the heat will help you to feel better, or at least, it always helps me."

"I don't want Edith to know I told you, Mama. And please don't tell Papa. Don't tell anyone, please?"

Cora sighed, brushing the hair out of Mary's eyes, "I won't say a word, my darling. Now, have a rest today - I'll have some tea sent up. And I'll have your sheets laundered."

Mary wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Just another thing to get used to, I'm afraid*." Cora said, rising and heading for the door. She walked back down the hall and headed for the master bedroom, where Robert had dressed and was preparing to head downstairs.

"Everything tip top with Mary?" he asked.

Cora came in and shut the door behind her, ringing for O'Brien as she crossed back to the bed. She sat on the edge of it, taking back her now-gone-cold tea cup.

"She's a bit under the weather today." she said, trying to smile. The truth was, she was emotional - so excited for Mary but also so frightened. Being the eldest, she would now be entering into a world of aristocracy and sometimes unforgivable tradition. Since Cora had not (yet, anyway, though the outlook seemed grim) bore an heir, it was likely that Mary would need to marry Patrick, the heir presumptive, if she were to continue to stay part of Downton and benefit from her mother's sizeable dowry- it was an awfully large fate to assume.

"Darling, are you crying?" Robert said, going to her.

Cora smiled, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, "Oh, Robert, you mustn't say anything to anyone but -" she locked eyes with him, "Mary has the wound of Eve that never heals*."

It took Robert a moment for her sentiment to register, and when he finally did, he blanched "Oh, well, you needn't worry about me saying anything to anyone- you know I'm terribly squeamish about such things anyway."

Cora placed a hand on Robert's face lovingly, "Yes, darling, I know."

He kissed her softly on the lips - lost in their moment together they didn't notice that Sybil had slowly opened the door just a crack. _A never healing wound? _Oh, she was certain now! Mary really _was _dying.

* * *

_Notes on this Chapter: _ __ _* The truth of the matter here is, most women didn't actually wear anything like cloth of sanitary napkins - even though it's perfectly disgusting to bleed into your chemise, up until around 1900 that's exactly what they did. You have to wonder, now, looking at those lovely looking ladies on the show - chances are one of them is actively bleeding into those beautiful gowns! _  
_*Indeed, this is a euphemism for menstruation - but I couldn't find out where it originated from, sorry to say! If someone knows I'd love to know the history._


	3. Chapter 3

Edith was, perhaps, more than a little bit envious of Mary. Not only was she now entitled to be a braggart about being grown-up, she got the rest of the day off from her lessons. Moping about after breakfast, hoping she could hide away in the library for a little bit longer, she became so caught up in a book she was reading that she didn't even hear her father enter and begin to rustle his morning paper. He sat down on the settee and startled when he caught sight of her.

"Edith, aren't you supposed to be having your lessons upstairs in the nursery?" he said, folding the paper in his lap.

"Yes," Edith conceded, shutting her book with a dull thud. "I don't want to. Mary doesn't have to have lessons today and I don't want them either. I think I should have a day off too. In moral support of her."

Robert chuckled. Moral support? And _oh yes_, poor Mary indeed. He pat the settee next to him and beckoned Edith over. She was almost hesitant - while Robert was an affectionate father, it was clear that he was _most _affectionate toward Mary - while Cora was forever preoccupied with showering love over baby Sybil (who wasn't a baby anymore; though you'd be hard pressed to convince Cora of that, the way she coddled her so!). Edith had always felt a bit left out and had, more or less, stopped expecting to be listened to - or at least, not heard.

Taking a seat next to her father, she looked up at him. He had a kind face- never scruffy with whiskers, except right after he came back from the war. He may not have looked at her often, but at least when he did, his eyes were loving and gentle. He may have been passionate about his first-born but with that passion came a tendency to fight - at least with Edith, he didn't get so riled up.

"What's troubling you, my dear?" he said, "Are you jealous that Mary gets a day off? Did your Mama explain to you _why _Mary isn't having her lessons today?"

"Oh, Papa, I know all about it. I knew about it before Mama did - that's for certain. I'm not jealous that Mary isn't having her lessons - but," she felt her face grow warm. She never imagined talking about anything even remotely related to her monthlies with her Papa, "I suppose I am a bit envious that she's. . .well, in bed all day." She looked up at her father and gathered, but the pink in his cheeks, that he understood her insinuation.

"Edith, as I'm sure your Mama has already told you, in due time you will also find yourself in Mary's situation. Now, I can't imagine that it is anything at all that you should be envious of," he picked up his newspaper and crinkled it awkwardly, "From what I understand it's a rather heinous affair. I should think, if anything, you ought to feel lucky that it's Mary and not _you _who is up her in bed ill."

Not able to help herself at seeing her Papa be, well, so _awkward _and school-boy-ish, Edith giggled. She knew he was only trying to make her feel better- to cheer her up and tell her to look on the bright side of things. But of course he could never understand _why _commencing her monthlies would be such a special thing - and of course neither he nor Mama _ever _understood why Mary and Edith were so competitive about every, little thing between sisters.

"Now, I really can't, in good conscious, allow you to forgo your lessons today, Edith." Robert said, reaching over and tucking a loose strand of hair behind his daughter's ear. "But, if you'd like to stay just while I finish the paper - enough time to read another chapter of your novel, I would think- then I will tell your governess that I am the reason you are _late._"

Edith grinned, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, "Oh, thank you Papa!" She nestled into his chest for a lingering moment and he kissed the side of her hair. She so wished that they had moments alone together more often- no sooner had she had the thought than her Mama walked into the library.

"Edith, why aren't you upstairs having your lessons?" she said sternly, walking over to the tea cart.

"I requested that Edith join me for a bit after breakfast this morning darling." Robert said, "We're just finishing up a bit of non-required reading and then she is off for her afternoon studies, isn't that right Edith?" he said, giving her a little wink. Edith nodded and leapt up, returning to where she had hidden her book in the stacks behind them. Engrossing herself in the story once more, she didn't notice her mother taking her place on the settee next to Robert, and their conversation was of no consequence to her now that she had won her keep in the library.

"Do you know what the matter with Sybil is?" Cora said, sipping her tea, "She reacted rather severely to Mary's being ill this morning."

Robert shrugged, without looking up from his paper, "She seemed alright to me. She was headed into the nursery just as I was coming down for breakfast. Other than, perhaps, looking a bit bleary-eyed, she seemed fine."

Cora sighed, "She was almost desperate to stay in Mary's room this morning. She was crying about it."

Realizing through his wife's persistent conversation that he was not going to progress another line into the paper until she had finished, Robert once again folded the paper into his lap.

"I hardly think that's unusual." He lowered his voice a bit, gesturing to Edith with his gaze, "This one's feeling a bit envious of Mary's languishing in bed today, too."

"Well, that I understand." Cora said, "Though I don't believe Sybil is old enough to understand the reason for the languishing." she shrugged, again, "I suppose perhaps Mary and Sybil have a much friendlier rapport than I thought."

"I would not be opposed to that in the least!" Robert said, "I think we should cultivate those bonds wherever they crop up." he cleared his throat, "Lord knows they are a sparse crop."

Cora stirred her tea, smiling a bit. "Robert, do you recall when Rosamund. . .became a woman? Somehow I can't imagine your Mama bringing her a hot water bottle and soothing her hair."

Robert chuckled, "No, I don't think there was any discussion of the event at all. Or, if there was, it certainly happened behind closed doors- far away from my virgin ears." he thought a moment, "To be entirely honest with you, darling, I had no concept of it really - until you came to Downton and suddenly I found myself in a far more intimate setting than with any other woman."

Cora blushed, "Oh, you must have been terribly embarrassed by me!" her voice hushed, "I'm sorry to have introduced you to the dreaded concept."

Robert shrugged, "If I understand it, it is far more notable when it _doesn't _make an appearance." he chuckled, "I remember the first time you mentioned it to me, in fact. It's denoted absence."

Patting his hand affectionately, a nostalgic grin creased Cora's face, "Oh, yes. Well, that was quite a surprise to me as well. But a long awaited and joyous one, indeed."

Robert studied his wife's face a moment. He remembered that morning perfectly and wondered if she did too. Though her glinting blue eyes seemed to become misty at the mention of the day, he couldn't tell if it was from the sweetness of the memory- or the realization that they had both somehow grown old.

_It was snowing - not a blizzard, just light, feathery flakes that fell so slowly in the cool morning air that they seemed almost to be suspended in the air. Robert had been standing at the window of the bedroom, having woken up before Cora as he did most mornings, and instead of hustling about to go downstairs and begin his day, he had felt the need to stop and take in the beautiful view of the estate in snow. _

_He remembered hearing her rustle beneath the covers- and without turning he had been able to picture what she looked like as she broke free of sleep. Her lips pouted, eyes still closed, she would stretch and arch her back, letting out a loan groan of resistance; their bed was always warm. He knew that next, she would reach over for him - and not finding him, no doubt, her eyes would bolt open. He turned around, his timing impeccable, just as she turned her face to the window._

"_Good morning darling." he said, walking over to her side of the bed, "You've got to see the snow- it's marvelous. The morning air is almost thick with it." _

_Cora smiled sleepily- then, without warning, her expression changed to one of pain and her face whitened. She sat up quickly, looked at him worriedly, then before he could get a handle on what was happening, she had thrown the covers back and scurried into the adjoining bath. Rushing to the door, only to have it shut purposefully in his face, Robert called after her. _

"_Cora? Cora, darling, are you alright?" _

_A few coughs. A pause. Then the unmistakable sound of a pained retch. _

"_Cora, are you ill? Should I call for Dr. Clarkson?" _

_A few moments passed and then, the door slowly opened. Robert had stepped back, backing up until he could sit on the bed. Cora stepped out sheepishly, her face beaded with sweat and her skin sallow and pale. _

"_No, darling. You don't need to call for Dr. Clarkson." _

_Robert held out his hands to her and she took them gratefully, as she seemed slow and unsteady on her feet. She sat down gingerly on the bed next to him and hiccuped. _

"_Cora, you look wretched. Are you sure you don't want me to ring for the doctor?"_

_Shaking her head, an exhausted chuckle escaping her, Cora turned to him. "I already saw Dr. Clarkson." _

"_And you're still not well? Why didn't he tell me -" he stopped, "Why didn't you tell me? How long have you been ill like this?" _

_His concern was endearing, but Cora knew that she could no longer keep the secret. Dr. Clarkson had diagnosed her nearly a week before - the sickness and her cessation of monthlies had made her wonder, but he had confirmed it. He had, however, encouraged her to wait just a little longer before telling anyone else. He said since she was young and otherwise healthy, there was no reason to think the baby wasn't healthy too - but anything could happen in the first few months. And, it had taken them much longer than they had thought, and perhaps there was a reason why. He didn't want to worry her unnecessarily, but he always wanted her to be prepared just in case it wasn't to be. _

_Looking at Robert now, she couldn't contain it any longer. The problem was, she didn't know how to say it. It wasn't that she didn't think he would be excited- for she knew he would be more so - he would be elated. But it was a sensitive topic for men, this she knew. _

"_I went to him because of my monthlies." she blurted. This was true, though as soon as she said it she knew it would mean nothing to Robert. It wasn't a clue to him in the least. As she predicted, she was met with nothing more from him than a furrowed brow. _

"_Well, you see, Robert darling, I stopped having them." _

"_And that's what's making you ill?" he said. _

_Cora studied him a moment- fearing he was denser-minded man than she thought, but then she realized that he really had no reason to understand the connection. Probably no man would have, except of course, a doctor. _

"_Robert. monthlies only stop when you reach your dotage or. . .well, there's only one other reason." _

_He looked at her blankly. _

"_It, um, can also cause an array of other symptoms - all of which Dr. Clarkson assured me were perfectly normal. One of them, I'm afraid, is the retching. Aversion to certain smells and foods is another, I'm afraid. And soon," she took a deep breath, feeling her heart thumping wildly in her chest, "I think you'll be able to tell." _

_Robert still didn't seem to be following. She took his hand between both of hers. It was warm and calloused -and to her, it felt like home. _

"_Robert - I'm expecting." _

_He blinked a few times in quick succession, then, he squeezed her hand with anticipation, "Expecting what, my darling? Is the illness to get worse? Is it serious?" _

_Perhaps it was the hormonal changes that Dr. Clarkson had warned her about, or perhaps she was just really in need of breakfast, but his daftness had pushed her beyond the realm of nerves into full-blown anxiety. _

"_Oh, Robert! A baby! I'm expecting a baby!" she got up and raced over to the window, letting her forehead rest against the cool glass. She felt her eyes grow hot with tears- she wasn't sure why, exactly, frustration maybe. And she had already begun to feel a second wave of nausea building. A few moments passed and then she felt his warm, gentle hands snake around her waist. He pulled her away from the window and into a warm embrace. He pulled back and looked at her, taking her face gently in his hands. _

"_Cora - a baby? Are you really?" he smiled, his eyes damp, "Are we really? At last?"_

He looked at Cora now. She was looking at him with those same sparkling eyes, her face a little more drawn now that they had grown a few years older, with three daughters now underfoot and life at Downton had continued to change with each winter that passed them by - often in ways they never imagined.

"Do you remember, after that?" he said quietly, leaning in closer to her. She scooted forward on the settee so that she was mere inches away from his face.

"If I recall, you tucked me back into bed - but no sooner had we cozied ourselves under the covers than I had to be sick again. I believe we spent the better part of the morning celebrating from either end of the door to the bath."

Robert kissed her lightly, and felt her smile against his mouth. Lost in their reverie, he had almost forgotten about Edith. When he and Cora both heard a throat clearing across the room, they parted. The girl's governess was in the doorway.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Your Lordship. Lady Edith hasn't come for her lessons today. I wanted to make sure she hadn't taken ill like Lady Mary has."

Robert fumbled and looked behind the settee, where Edith was still completely lost in her storybook. He smiled and then, reluctantly, confessed her wherabouts.

"I called Edith in after breakfast. I'm sorry to have troubled you by not letting you know. But, she is all set now to resume her lessons this afternoon, aren't you Edith?"

Escaping from the book - which she seemed pained to close- Edith sighed. "Yes, Papa." she kissed his cheek as she passed him on her way to the doorway, "And thank you" she whispered. She and her governess headed out into the hall, and the governess then turned momentarily back to Lord and Lady Grantham.

"I don't mean to trouble _you, _m'lord." she said, "But you, or perhaps you, m'lady, maybe want to go upstairs and see what's happened to Lady Sybil."


	4. Chapter 4 (final)

The Dowager Countess of Grantham, one Violet Crawley, did not like to be kept waiting. People waited for _her_, not the other way around. Whenever anything happened to upset what she considered to be the natural order of things, she found herself and her limited patience boiling over with resentment. Of course, she didn't want to be perceived as such and so she helped it in, as practiced as any lady of her station, and instead permitted it to erupt in only passing, _passive _sentiments of ill-content.

She sipped her tea and eyed Carson, who was fidgeting with the tea cart. She may not ever have admitted it, but she did like Carson. She respected his competence and professional demeanor.

"Mr. Carson, would you be so kind as to remind Robert of our social responsibilities today? I admit I am a little offput by his truancy."

Carson nodded, "My apologies, m'lady. He is with her ladyship, upstairs, tending to a rather urgent matter with Lady Sybil. But, at your request, I will go see how it is progressing." He made to exit but Violet stopped him.

"A pressing matter? With Sybil? She's a child, Mr. Carson, I can't imagine that she would have any pressing business that her father could possibly think to trouble himself with."

Carson smirked a bit. "If you'll pardon me, the nature of things is. . .delicate, and I do not think it is within my rank to divulge such personal matters on behalf of his lordship."

Violet then found herself smirking - oh, how this butler taunted her so! She dismissed him, knowing he was far too devoted to Robert to give her any more, though she did find that her resentment had now been replaced with a pleasant sense of curiosity.

Carson headed upstairs to the nursery, where he knew his Lordship and her Ladyship were currently tending to Lady Sybil, who had worked herself up into a frenzy of tears over the condition of Lady Mary. Carson had always had an affection for the eldest Crawley girl. She was the first child with whom he really interacted, and though he had never considered himself much of a fatherly figure, he did find that even as a child Mary gravitated toward him and often sought him out when she was feeling neglected by her parents- who, over the years, became occasionally more preoccupied with her younger sisters. He also knew that, as all young ladies do at one time or another, Mary was at the age when she would go from girl to lady, and though he would never think of giving any indication of his awareness of it, he knew that soon enough he would walk into the breakfast room and find not children, but young ladies, surrounding the table. It made him a bit sad, of course, but it was a nostalgic sadness. He was getting older too.

He rapped quietly on the door to the nursery, and within a few moments Cora appeared in the doorway.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, m'lady, but the Dowager Countess is downstairs in the library waiting for his Lordship. I believe she said something about a social engagement today. She is, as you may imagine, anxious for him to make an appearance."

Cora sighed and opened the door wider so that Carson could see in to the room. Sybil, a heap of shaking, sniffling girl, was curled up in her father's lap and he was reading to her - his voice low and calming. Cora, not wanting to interrupt them, stepped out into the hall way and brought Carson with her, her hand light on his forearm.

"Carson, I'm afraid whatever social engagement it is, it will have to wait. We've only just calmed Sybil down."

Carson nodded but Cora knew he doubted this would be enough to satisfy Violet. Before he could turn on his heels and head back downstairs, Cora continued, "I suppose that I will have to join the Dowager Countess for the time being." she said, rather resolved to the prospect, "She's in the library, you said?"

* * *

Mary thrashed about in her bed. How dreadful it all was to be in such a state! She was also, in addition to being in pain and feeling generally ill, becoming frightfully bored. She had finished the book she'd been reading and wanted desperately to start another, but that of course would involve walking downstairs to the library. She had considered even asking Edith to bring school work to her, but she quickly thought better of it - she certainly didn't want facts and figures to dizzy her head further, though a story to take her mind off things would have been welcomed. She pulled herself up in bed and a slight headrush made her second guess the concept of going downstairs but as soon as she steadied she was reminded of her boredom. She slid out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. Though she knew it would be far more respectable for her to get dressed, she was only going downstairs long enough to grab a book - most likely no one would ever notice! Forgoing the task of changing and fixing her hair, she headed downstairs.

"Hello, Mama." Cora said, entering the library. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with me today. Robert is otherwise engaged."

Violet eyed Cora, "What could possibly be higher on his list of worldly responsibilities than his mother?"

Accepting a cup of tea from Carson, Cora felt a small smile creep across her lips,

"His daughters."

Stifled, Violet sipped her tea. Cora had gotten her there, for sure.

"You'll have to remind me what you and Robert were to discuss today." Cora said, crossing her feet at the ankles, "I have been rather distracted this morning."

"Well, don't let me keep you from _more pressing matters." _Violet said, bitter around the edges of her words, "Or at the very least you could enlighten me to what, precisely, is competing with me for your attentions."

Cora sighed, sipping her tea. She could admit, to herself anyway, that she did sort of enjoy tantalizing Violet - but that joy was short-lived: no sooner than she had brought the tea cup to her lips did Mary appear in the doorway- nightgown and all.

"Mary, what are you doing out of bed?" Cora said, setting her teacup down. Mary, looking caught, looked back and forth between Cora and Violet- hoping she had not walked in to a room full of reprimand.

"I need another book to read, Mama. I have finished the one I had and I am terribly bored."

"Mary, why aren't you in your lessons, are you ill?" she looked at Cora disapprovingly, "If the child is _ill _Cora certainly someone could have taken a book to her if she wanted to read - there's no need for her to run about the house like Typhoid Mary."

Cora laughed, "Mama, Mary isn't ill in that way."

Mary threw her Mama a look and her cheeks pinked up. She certainly didn't want the whole world to know about her monthlies! There was something of an awkward moment where no one moved - not even to sip their tea - before Violet, seemingly having realized what everyone was on about, broke the silence with a knowing chuckle.  
"Oh, I see." she said, "But Cora, why on earth is Robert preoccupied? I hardly think it appropriate to involve him in the intimate details of his young daughter's impending womanhood."

"Oh, granny, please!" Mary wailed, "I don't want to discuss it!"

Violet laughed, "Mary, dear, come here. Come sit next to your grandmama."

Mary slunk over and sat down next to Violet, who embraced her warmly. "You'll find now that it's a rather dreadful business, and certainly not something you ever discuss outside of your bedchambers with your mama, and later your lady's maid, but my dear it is a rite of passage that all women must forge through, and you may now consider yourself truly a lady. You know that now you may, of course, have more privileges. Such as joining us for brunch and tea, instead of being in the nursery with your sisters."

Mary perked up, turning to Cora, "Am I really freed from the nursery now?"

Cora nodded, "And you'll be able to appear, for a short time at first, at the parties your Papa and I throw. Though I'm sure you'll find them terribly boring."

"Mary, you must take care to keep yourself in good health. Which starts with not catching cold - which is most dangerous during this sensitive time. Now, fetch a book and then quickly, back upstairs with you and tuck into bed. You are improperly dressed not only for eyes, but for warmth." She gave Mary a peck on the cheek and shooed her off. A moment later, after she'd left, Violet turned back to Cora, "Pray tell, what is keeping Robert, if not Mary?"

"It's Sybil-" Cora began, "She somehow got it into her head that Mary is dying and she's been inconsolable all morning."

Violet guffawed, a sound that startled Cora so that she rattled her tea cup, the contents of which splashed out onto her dress.

"That poor child!" Violet cawed, "And I suppose Edith, too, is rather beside herself. How the sisters compete!"

Trying to blot the tea out of her dress, Cora sighed, "No one ever tells you about raising daughters."

Violet sipped her tea, "Cora, what were you expecting?" she laughed, "_Little Women_?"

**A/N: **Thank you all for your lovely comments on this story! I wasn't sure how long it would be or where it would go but I knew it wasn't going to be terribly long- just a little sweet, I hope! I have another one, also set in this time-frame, on the horizon, so if you were enjoying my headcanon for the girls on Tumblr, fear not! They will return. . .


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